


Miles To Go Before I Sleep

by nhpw



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Innuendo, M/M, One Shot, Polyamory, Timestamp, implied polyamory
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-04-03
Updated: 2017-04-03
Packaged: 2018-10-14 12:25:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10536435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nhpw/pseuds/nhpw
Summary: Misha went on a many-mile, many-hour bicycle tour for E4K 2017, and then he posted on Facebook. Jensen took notice.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Hi guys! This is just a very short, very simple one-shot inspired by [Misha's post-E4K Facebook post](https://www.facebook.com/officialmisha/posts/1399914263363910:0) and [this concept](https://twitter.com/patronusnovak/status/848323628408221696). (I riffed a little, obviously, since Jensen wouldn't have that much facial hair right now in early April.) And the title is inspired by Misha's love for poetry, and my own undying love for the work of [Robert Frost](http://www.online-literature.com/frost/751/). This is intended to just be short and sweet with the slightest possibility of "this could have possibly really happened." I hope you all enjoy!

It was no more than two minutes after he posted his “post-E4K” selfie, and Misha hadn't moved an inch - immobilized by exhaustion and the worst muscle pain he’d felt in years - when his phone buzzed and pinged against the mattress. He groped blindly with this right hand, groaning even at that small movement, until his fingers managed to grasp the device. Then he bent his elbow until the phone was-- ok, no, it was backwards, and his hands seemed incapable of turning it over without dropping it on his chest.

By the time he read Jensen's message, he was whimpering pitifully under his breath.

_ Hey there, Champ! How’re you doing? _

Misha grimaced and considered attempting a text reply, but after three failed attempts to negotiate the phone so he could hold and type with the same hand, he pressed the FaceTime call button instead.

“I'm dead,” he said by way of greeting as soon as Jensen's face popped up on the screen.

A huff of a laugh and Jensen's soft smile warmed him inside, though, and made him forget for a moment that he felt like he’d been drawn and quartered and then run over by a truck. “My condolences to your lovely wife.”

“Thanks, but I think she'll be fine. I hear she's banging this super hot guy from Texas…”

“Seriously, how’d it go?”

“It was good. It was fun. Killed me, but hey, it was for charity.”

“Yeah, that’s your own stupid fault, don’t feed me that. Maybe next time you train for that shit first, huh?”

Misha made a point of ignoring him. “Hey, did you know oil refineries are picky as fuck about what kind of oil they can accept?”

Jensen laughed again and nodded on the screen. “I did know that.”

“That's gonna be a huge problem when Alaska runs out. 'Course, hopefully by the time that happens, we’ll have found a cleaner, more eco-friendly way to move society along.”

“So when you said you were dead, that was strictly a bodily death, then? Like Futurama-style? Your head’s still floating in a jar somewhere? Because your brain seems as active as ever. ”

“I’ll have you know there’s at least one other part of my body that’s fully engaged in this conversation.” He angled his phone down intentionally, giving Jensen a brief view of his underwear-covered crotch, bulged just enough to get the message across. When he returned the phone up so he could see the screen, he didn’t miss the glint of interest in Jensen’s eyes.

“You gonna be all rested and ready by the time you get back to work on Tuesday?”

“I mean it’s not like Cas’ posture requires me to put in a lot of effort.”

“Not what I was talkin’ about, Mish.” His voice had definitely dropped a few notes, the tenor coming out gruff and his eyes darkening with intent. He licked his lips to drive home the point.

Misha grinned and returned the lip-lick gesture, letting his eyes sparkle as he drank in Jensen’s face from across the miles. “You might have to do most of the work.”

“Your mouth seems to work just fine.”

Misha could only grin and snort-laugh in response. He felt the heat of arousal rise in his cheeks as he studied Jensen’s slightly stubbled face. 

A long moment passed where they were silent, just looking at each other through their phones. Jensen had a faraway look in his eyes, like he was maybe imagining being there with Misha, or the two of them being in Vancouver together on Tuesday, or both. From the small box displaying his own face in the upper right corner of his phone, Misha supposed he looked about the same.

“I miss you,” he said finally.

“Miss you, too.” A pause. “Proud of you, Mish. For everything you do.”

“Hmmm… I am pretty amazing, aren’t I?” He could only hold his lofty composure for half a second before he broke down in a chuckle. “Thanks.” There was the unmistakable sound of an infant’s cry - Arrow, if Misha was tuning his ears correctly - somewhere offscreen, and Jensen turned his head to the right to acknowledge the sound. “I gotta go.”

“Give everyone a kiss from me, appropriately. Slip in some tongue for D and tickles for JJ.”

“Will do.” Jensen was already walking, carrying the phone with him, and the baby cries grew louder as he moved. “Love you, Mish.”

Misha sighed happily, and closed his eyes for a moment. “Love you, too.”

“See you Tuesday?”

“Tuesday.” He caught the slightest glimpse of Arrow’s scrunched-up angry face as Jensen leaned over her crib, and it warmed his heart and tugged the corners of his mouth up into a tight smile. “Bye, Jensen.”

“Later Babe.” Low and gruff, barely audible over the sound of his daughter’s cries, and then the screen blinked to black.

Misha pressed his phone face-down to his chest and stared up at the ceiling. He imagined Jensen, at home in Austin, taking Arrow into his arms and hushing her, bouncing her, soothing her fears away. He imagined him pressing his lips softly to the crown of her head and saying, “That’s from Uncle Misha. He says hello.”

And on that image, his eyes slipped closed, and he drifted off to sleep.


End file.
